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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29757354">He Looks So Perfect Dancing There</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticsugar/pseuds/galacticsugar'>galacticsugar</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalrock/pseuds/petalrock'>petalrock</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Double Cheeked Up: Cake in Two Parts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>5 Seconds of Summer (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dance, Crocs, First Kiss, Flirting, Getting Together, In-N-Out Burger, Liberal use of the word fuck, M/M, Mutual Pining, Swearing, boys putting on makeup, hoodie sharing, idiots to lovers, jalex name drop, reassuring arm touching, romanticizing dance performances</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:22:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29757354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticsugar/pseuds/galacticsugar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalrock/pseuds/petalrock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke is about five seconds away from a complete and utter breakdown. It’s the last dress rehearsal before the spring dance showcase, and everyone is shaking with excitement, Luke included. Something about a last dress rehearsal feels like the exclamation point that punctuates the dance school year. The shows themselves always fly by so fast that they feel more like a credits montage. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Double Cheeked Up: Cake in Two Parts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Good rising! Welcome to <b>Double Cheeked Up: Cake in Two Parts.</b></p><p>This is a little project we’ve been working on for weeks(!?) now. Originally, we wanted to write cake for each other and make the other person fall in love with our respective crushes, but somehow we ended up writing it together, which turned out the be The Fucking Move. </p><p>What we've done is written two different stories with two different parts, with <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalrock">petalrock</a> writing Luke's perspective and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticsugar">galacticsugar</a> writing Calum's perspective for both stories. <b>Chapter 2 includes a bonus scene of new content!</b></p><p>For Part 2 (He Looks So Perfect Dancing There), Chapter 1 was written by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalrock">petalrock</a> and Chapter 2 was written by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticsugar">galacticsugar</a>.</p><p>We think it turned out pretty well. And even if it didn’t, we had a fucking blast writing and reading and laughing hysterically. Hopefully that translated into the actual fics!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Luke is about five seconds away from a complete and utter breakdown. It’s the last dress rehearsal before the spring dance showcase, and everyone is shaking with excitement, Luke included. Something about a last dress rehearsal feels like the exclamation point that punctuates the dance school year. The shows themselves always fly by so fast that they feel more like a credits montage. </p><p>All this energy would be great if they were actually dancing. But they’re just doing some last-minute staging. Luke really needs his dancers to just fucking stand still. There are only ten of them, it really shouldn’t be this difficult. </p><p>“Ash, go about six inches to the left. Kay, take like half a step back. Jack, for the love of God, get your hands off of Alex and stand still. I will kick you out of my piece the day before the show,” Luke threatens. He’s got a microphone so he can be heard, because despite strict instructions from the director to keep quiet, the theater sounds like a bunch of bees on Red Bull. </p><p>Jack backs away from Alex, but Luke can see at least three other people giggling to each other from across the stage. He heaves a dramatic sigh. The mic picks it up and makes it sound like a hurricane, and the dancers on stage look at him in mild alarm. Oops. Actually, you know what, it’s what they deserve. At least now they’re paying attention. </p><p>“Seriously, you guys, the faster we get through this the faster it’s done,” he says, internally cringing at how he sounds like every director ever. He sees Ashton in the corner pull a face. “We only have like thirty seconds of staging time left, so get to the first formation and let’s run it from the top.” </p><p>He turns and passes the mic to the director, Patty, and moves to his own spot in the first formation. </p><p>“Who put a stick up your ass?” Ashton asks Luke as they get into their places. </p><p>“Your mom,” Luke says. Ashton flips him off. Luke pointedly looks away, towards stage right, and chokes on his next breath. </p><p>Standing in the wing, with his arms crossed, wearing a backwards snapback and looking intimidating as fuck, is Calum Hood. He’s got on the trademark dark green sweatshirt of the school’s top hip hip crew, the Ninjaz. The blond streaks in his fringe are just barely visible under his hat in the purple stage lighting. When he catches Luke’s eye, he grins a little bit, one corner of his mouth turning up. It makes Luke’s pulse pick up, because that smile means Calum is up to no good. But fuck, he looks hot. Luke so badly wants to—</p><p>“Ready?” Patty asks from the front of the stage. Fuck. Now is not the time for cute boys. Now is the time for dancing. While the cute boy watches. Extra fuck. </p><p>“Ready,” Luke calls back, kind of squeakily. Ashton snickers next to him. Piece of shit. He should be more careful—one more wrong move, and Luke will hide one piece from each of Ashton’s costumes right before the show tomorrow. </p><p>The music starts, and Luke takes all his anxieties from various categories—rehearsal frustration, performance anticipation, nerves from being watched by his long-time crush—and channels them into dancing. This is the first group piece he’s ever choreographed on his own, and honestly, he’s damn proud of it. It took a lot of work to get it looking just right. Mostly because he chose to cast both Jack and Alex. That set the rehearsal difficulty level to hardcore. </p><p>They’ve made it halfway through, and Luke has an impressively small mental list of notes to go over when they’re offstage. Nice. They’re approaching his little solo, where he does four fouette turns into a double pirouette, and then an illusion. In every rehearsal before this, at least five people have cheered. It was awesome. Perhaps he is a narcissist. </p><p>Sure enough, when Luke starts turning, some hollers come from the front of the house. And then, from stage right, a piercing wolf whistle cuts across the music.</p><p>Luke doesn’t have time to process it until he’s finished his illusion. There’s only one person who would risk the wrath of both director Patty and Luke himself to pull a move like that. Well, maybe two. But only one of them was standing off stage right. </p><p>Sure enough, after holding the final pose for a solid three one-thousands, Luke looks over and sees that Calum’s crooked grin has now become one of the shit-eating variety. God, he’s so fucking annoying, messing with Luke when he’s trying to perform. Luke thinks really hard about lighting Calum on fire with his mind. It doesn’t work. Probably because he’s already extremely hot. </p><p>“That looked really good, Luke,” Patty says into the mic from off the front of the stage. “The formation for the leaps in the first chorus still looks a little wonky, but you can sort that out backstage.”</p><p>“Yeah, will do, Pat,” Luke yells back. This is a lie. He’s got more important things to do backstage, like unleash his wrath upon Calum Hood. Patty calls for the next piece to come stage. The other people in Luke’s piece head off stage left, towards the contemporary team’s dressing room. Ashton pauses in front of Luke to wiggle his eyebrows moronically. </p><p>“Go get your boy,” he says, poking Luke in the ribs. Luke jumps back with a yelp. </p><p>“Fuck you, he’s not my boy,” Luke says. He goes to pinch Ashton’s side. Ashton sidesteps, landing another poke between Luke’s ribs.</p><p>“Motherfucker!” </p><p>Ashton ducks Luke’s punch and sprints off stage left, cackling delightedly. </p><p>Luke exhales forcefully and heads for Calum, who appears to be waiting for him, looking entirely too smug. </p><p>“Are you fucking insane? Do you have a death wish?” Luke demands. Calum throws his head back and laughs like a cartoon supervillain. Luke crosses his arms and puts on his best Fed Up With Your Bullshit face. Calum is not cute. He is fucking annoying. </p><p>“Aw, Lukey, you could never kill me,” Calum says when he stops laughing. “I’m way too cute for that.” He bats his eyelashes for emphasis. </p><p>Luke channels every ounce of willpower to ignore both the nickname and Calum’s ridiculously pretty eyes. Like, are they sparkling? That’s not allowed. Jail. </p><p>“I don’t care how cute you are, dipshit, anyone who compromises the integrity of my piece must die,” Luke says. Ah, yes. Threatening violence. The perfect way to repress the jaunty tap routine his internal organs are currently performing. </p><p>Calum’s smile grows. His eyes crinkle at the corners. Luke has never seen anyone look so thrilled in the face of a death threat. This kid is infuriating. </p><p>“You think I’m cute?”</p><p>Luke sniffs. </p><p>“I never said that. I never said you weren’t, but I also never said you were. Did you miss the part where I said I'm gonna kill you?”</p><p>Calum wiggles his eyebrows. It’s cute. Fuck. </p><p>“You totally think I’m cute,” he says. </p><p>Luke is graciously saved from responding to that when another green-hoodie-clad boy tackles Calum from the side. </p><p>“Fucking hell, Mike!” Calum yelps as he staggers sideways. </p><p>“CAL! I couldn’t find you anywhere!” Michael yells directly into his ear. “Also, sorry about that. Who knew wearing sunglasses indoors would make seeing so difficult?”</p><p>Luke blinks a couple times and notices that Michael is, in fact, wearing oversized heart-shaped sunglasses. In a mostly darkened theater. At their last big dress rehearsal, where anything not in the program is strictly forbidden. What the fuck?</p><p>“What the fuck?” says Calum. “You should’ve told me we were wearing sunglasses, I would’ve brought my clout goggles.” </p><p>“I have them,” Michael says. He reaches into his back pocket and procures a pair of big white glasses. “That’s why I was looking for you, dumbass.”</p><p>“Oh shit, thanks dawg,” Calum says. He slides the clout goggles onto the top of his head, over his backwards hat. He looks so fucking stupid. Luke scowls, half regular frustrated and half sexually frustrated. Why must he have an idiot kink? </p><p>“Patty will absolutely castrate you if you wear sunglasses on stage,” Luke informs them, as if they don't already know. Like they don’t pull stupid shit like this every single show. At least sunglasses are better than the time the entire Ninjaz team wore their underwear on the outside. Some of them have very questionable taste in boxers. Calum’s had SpongeBob on them. </p><p>“Kinky,” Michael says. His glasses slide down his nose a bit, and he pushes them back up with his middle finger. Calum rolls his eyes and elbows him in the ribs. </p><p>“It’s just dress rehearsal, Luke,” Calum says. “What are they gonna do, kick us out of the show?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Luke says. “That’s exactly what they’re gonna do.” They won’t. Patty might roast them publicly to discourage younger, more impressionable dancers from following in their wake, but she has a stupid soft spot for the two of them. To be completely honest, so does Luke. He has no idea why. They’re insufferable. </p><p>“No way,” says Michael. “We’re way too swaggy.” </p><p>Case in point. Luke pulls a face like he’s just smelled sour yogurt. </p><p>“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that.”</p><p>“He’s right, though,” Calum says. “Peep the drip.” </p><p>In uncanny synchronization, he and Michael both gesture to their feet. Luke looks, and—</p><p>“Oh my fucking God. You are not wearing crocs onstage.”</p><p>"It's the best idea we've ever had," Michael says. "They have no traction whatsoever. I'm going to eat shit."</p><p>"Now that, I approve of," Luke says, and Calum laughs. Luke thinks he’d like to have that set as his morning alarm. It’d definitely be worth waking up for. </p><p>"Look, I even put in my special jibbitz for the occasion," Calum says excitedly. He pulls off one of his bright white crocs and holds it up to show off a pair of tiny pink ballet slippers in one of the holes. Luke looks at it. It’s kind of cute. Why the hell is he, like, charmed by a fucking jibbitz? He needs to seek help immediately. </p><p>"You don't do ballet," Luke says finally. </p><p>"Nope," Calum says. "But you do!"</p><p>He puts his croc back on, and Luke is flummoxed. What the fresh hell that was supposed to mean? </p><p>From on stage, Patty calls for the next group to do staging. </p><p>"That's us," Michael says, walking past Calum out of the wings. Luke had pretty much forgotten he was there. </p><p>"Well, time to test Patty's limits," Calum says. "My favorite sport."</p><p>"She's gonna have an aneurysm," Luke says. He’s still thinking about Calum heavily implying that he decorated his crocs with Luke in mind. That is easily the weirdest and sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him. </p><p>Calum grins and throws him a wink. Then, he nods his head so that his clout goggles fall down onto his nose. </p><p>"You're ridiculous," Luke tells him, accidentally sounding disgustingly fond. This stupid boy. </p><p>“You know it, baby,” Calum says. “Live young, die fast. Or whatever.” </p><p>He turns on his heel and walks onstage. Luke watches them run through formations from the spot where Calum had watched him. Patty, amazingly, says nothing about Michael and Calum's choice of accessories. Possibly she has given up. Luke wouldn’t blame her.</p><p>The Ninjaz finish staging and take their places to do a run through. Luke holds his breath a little in anticipation. When the music starts, he watches Calum like his eyelids are taped to his forehead. In Luke’s professional opinion, he is by far the most talented dancer on the Ninjaz. And somehow, despite wearing crocs and clout goggles, he still looks cool. That's the thing about Calum. Everything he does should be insanely cringey and obnoxious, and it is. But he's also so genuinely sweet and funny that he sort of pulls it off. It doesn’t help that he’s cute. And hot. God, life would be so much simpler if Calum were actually irritating. </p><p>Calum has lived rent free in Luke’s mind since Luke first saw him freshman year. Luke had been at his team, Syncopate’s, regularly scheduled rehearsal, just about to start warm up, when the studio door had flown open. A boy with curly brown hair had backed into the studio and swung around, brandishing a flat white box. </p><p>“I brought doughnuts!” he said excitedly. He took one look around the room, and his radiant smile slipped into a look of exasperation and embarrassment. “This isn’t Studio C, is it?”</p><p>“This is B,” Luke had said. He had been standing in the back nearest the door, and when he spoke, the stranger’s gaze snapped to him. Luke knew immediately that he was fucked. The boy’s eyes were big and dark, and he had a face that was soft and sharp in all the right places. And he was dressed in a baggy t-shirt, joggers, and vans. Like a hip hip dancer. Luke had a weakness for hip hip dancers, probably because, as a contemporary dancer himself, he couldn’t comprehend how people could move like that, sharp isolations and smooth waves, all while looking cool. He’s pretty sure his own dance face is like that of a drowning fish. </p><p>Luke lost track of how long he’d been admiring Doughnut Boy, until Ashton said from the front of the room, “The Ninjaz are the next studio over, Calum.”</p><p>Calum. Pretty name. Pretty boy. Given the choice, Luke thought he’d rather get a taste of Calum than the doughnuts.</p><p>“Right, yeah,” Calum said. He tore his gaze away from Luke. Wait, what? “I’ll just- I’m gonna go. I’m going now,” he stammered a bit, reaching behind him for the door with the hand not carrying the box of donuts. Luke’s chest felt like a mug of hot chocolate. </p><p>Calum backed out into the hallway and was gone. Luke had stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door. And thus his problem began. </p><p>After that, Luke had started seeing Calum everywhere. He was in the studio when Luke went into rehearsal and when he came out. He was in the quad and the dining hall almost every time Luke was. Maybe Luke showed up for jazz early one day, and the advanced class for hip hip majors was just wrapping up. Maybe he hid in the corner of the window and watched Calum. Maybe he was conveniently fifteen minutes early to jazz every day after that. </p><p>Somewhere, among all their little encounters, they started talking. Just a few jokes tossed around at first. It immediately became clear that Luke’s first impression of Calum as a stuttering klutz had been somewhat misleading. He turned out to be ridiculously dorky, funny, and just generally loud. </p><p>And then one morning, halfway through the year, Calum offered to walk Luke to his next class. Remarkably, despite the fact that Luke was himself, it wasn’t awkward. Every time Luke said something he thought might be a little too weird or mean, Calum would laugh and say something even weirder right back. </p><p>Luke had made the mistake of sharing this with Ashton, who proceeded to download Pinterest and make a wedding inspo board. </p><p>“What kind of flowers do you want?”</p><p>“Can you fuck off? I’m literally doing homework. Don’t you have a paper due tomorrow?”</p><p>“You’re right. Dahlias, for sure. The giant pink ones. They’ll match the ribbon I picked out for the invitations.”</p><p>So Luke and Calum fell into a routine. Luke refused to read into any of their interactions too much. He wasn’t sure about Calum’s sexuality, or if he would ever be interested in Luke, even if he liked guys. Sexuality wasn’t exactly a light enough topic for a ten minute walk across campus. </p><p>Besides, he was quite content to be in Calum’s bubble as much as he already was. Luke was not about to compromise their sort-of friendship. So he ignored the liquid gold in his veins every time Calum looked at him a little too long or gave him a compliment. It became easier to pretend to be annoyed than to think about how much he actually might like Calum. He definitely had everything totally under control. </p><p>Almost a year later, Luke is fizzing with nerves on the night of the spring showcase. This is the last show of the year, and it’s a combination of pieces from all the individual teams and choreography classes for dance majors. Between Syncopate and his classes, Luke is dancing in about half of the pieces featured in the show, which is kind of insane for a sophomore. To be fair, when he had decided to audition for every single piece for his team, he hadn’t actually expected to get into all of them. Whoops. </p><p>There’s only an hour left before show time, and he’s busy trying to find a decent spot to stow the stick of BioFreeze he’s going to need between numbers. Maybe he was dicking around before warm up yesterday, and pulled his left hamstring. Who’s to say. He’s got to keep it a secret, or Patty will try to make him sit out. Solution: stowaway BioFreeze. </p><p>He finds a place along the back wall of the stage left wing, behind the neat piles of costumes set up for various quick changes. He wraps a shirt he stole from Ashton around it so that no one will spot the telltale sign of an injury. Modern problems require modern solutions. Satisfied, he stands up and spins around. And crashes right into Calum. </p><p>“Hey!” Calum chirps cheerfully, grabbing Luke’s elbows to steady him. Luke’s skin lights on fire. “Are you ready to dazzle the crowds with your ridiculously long legs?” </p><p>“Fuck yeah I am. Are you ready, to uh, hip and hop?” Luke wants to die a little bit. In his defense, Calum is touching him. </p><p>“Hell yes,” Calum says. This close, Luke can count the smile lines in the corners of his eyes and all of his eyelashes. Which means he can tell that—</p><p>“You’re not wearing any stage makeup.” </p><p>Calum wrinkles his nose. Luke wants to touch it. Preferably with his mouth. My God. Show nerves are a hell of a drug. </p><p>“Makeup is for pretty boys, not me,” Calum says. “I’m a big, tough, manly man.” </p><p>That’s bullshit. Luke has seen Calum in his major-required modern improv class, and the boy can whip out turns with almost no technical training. It’s high up on the List Of Things About Calum That Drive Luke Mad, alongside Has Thick Eyebrows, Can Walk On His Hands, and, as of yesterday, Looks Cute in Crocs. </p><p>“Shut up,” Luke says. “You can be a tough manly man and wear makeup so that your features aren’t completely washed out by the stage lights. You’re gonna look like Slenderman."</p><p>“Slenderman is hot,” Calum says. “He’s pale and he’s got long legs. That’s exactly my type.” </p><p>Luke feels a heat in his stomach that might actually be envy of Slenderman. Jesus Christ. What is wrong with him? He’s an embarrassment. He has got to distract himself. With a surge of courage that he chalks up to pre-show adrenaline, he grabs Calum’s wrist. </p><p>“Come on, I’m putting eyeliner on you,” Luke says, dragging a weakly protesting Calum towards the Syncopate dressing room. He pushes through the door, and finds the room empty; everyone must be out stretching and setting costumes. Convenient. He sits Calum at the stool by the mirror that Luke had done his own makeup at just hours earlier. </p><p>The Syncopate dressing room really pushes the limits of the term “organized chaos.” Laundry baskets of costumes are stacked haphazardly along the walls and makeup is strewn everywhere. There’s a pair of pink lace underwear hanging from one of the hooks on the back of the door. The whole place smells like the laboratory where hairspray was invented. </p><p>Luke takes a moment to appreciate how adorably juxtaposed Calum looks in this dressing room, in his big hoodie and sneakers. Something about seeing Calum in this space, in Luke’s space, is making Luke feel a little dizzy. Decidedly not unpacking that thought, he unzips his makeup bag. </p><p>Calum sighs deeply and dramatically. "The things I do for pretty boys," he says. </p><p>"Mmhm," Luke says distractedly, still rooting through his makeup bag. Jesus Christ, he owns a lot of glitter. Maybe if he asks really nicely, Calum will let him put some on his cheeks. That would look absolutely ethereal, though it might cost Luke his life. Boy In Glitter would be a worthy cause of death. Finally, Luke finds his eyeliner pencil. He'd used liquid liner on himself, because he was a bad bitch, but since Calum seems set on appearing masculine, he's getting pencil. </p><p>"Okay, give me your face," Luke says, uncapping the pencil. </p><p>"Gladly," says Calum, blinking up at Luke. The stool puts Calum’s eyes level with Luke's chest so that Calum has to tilt his head back to make eye contact. Luke's hands suddenly feel a little clammy. Fuck. He's about to have his hands on Calum's face. This is totally fine. Very chill and groovy. </p><p>He steps forward and places his left hand on Calum’s right cheek. Holy shit, his skin is really soft. And warm. It begins to occur to Luke that he may not be in the right headspace to handle this. Luke approaches Calum’s left eye with the eyeliner pencil. Calum is staring at Luke with wide eyes, like he's watching Luke walk a flaming tightrope over a bottomless pit. </p><p>"Close your eyes, dork," Luke says. It comes out softer than he intended. The dressing room is empty, but the thought of speaking loudly feels wrong, for some reason. Calum’s eyes flutter shut. </p><p>Without Calum’s eyes to distract him, Luke is suddenly acutely aware of the present moment. Miraculously, he's gotten himself into putting eyeliner on who may be the boy of his dreams in an empty dressing room. Holy shit. Calum’s eyelashes are really long. Also, have his eyebrows always been that nice? His dark and blond curls are so soft looking up close. They smell like fresh pine. Luke feels lightheaded. Jesus Christ. He’s got to put on the show of his life in like an hour, he cannot be losing his mind right now. </p><p>Luke takes a steadying breath, and drags the eyeliner gently across Calum’s eyelid. The left eye is easy. Doing the right eye requires him to be at a bit of an odd angle, but he pulls it off. It just requires more face touching. Luke is certain that Calum can hear his pounding heartbeat in the traitorously quiet dressing room. </p><p>"Okay, let me see," Luke says, once he thinks the liner seems even. Calums opens his eyes. </p><p>Oh sweet Jesus Christ on a bike. The liner has made his eyes look impossibly bigger and darker. Which was the whole point, so it shouldn’t be surprising. But Luke is pretty sure nothing could have prepared him for this. He feels like he's levitating six inches off the ground just from looking at Calum.  </p><p>“Alright, you can look,” Luke says, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I’m an artistic genius.” He steps back so that Calum can turn and look in the mirror. </p><p>"Oh," says Calum, turning his head side to side as he studies himself. "Shit. I look kind of hot."</p><p>No fucking shit. Luke sees no way to address that comment without embarrassing himself, so instead he says, "Come back so I can do your waterline."</p><p>"My what?"</p><p>"Your waterline. The under part of your eye." Luke points to his own waterline. He'd maybe stabbed himself in the eye pretty hard doing it earlier. Ashton had laughed at him, because he was a terrible friend. But Calum didn't need to know that.</p><p>"That sounds dangerous," Calum says. "I kind of need my vision to dance."</p><p>"Firstly, you wore sunglasses indoors during rehearsal yesterday, so that's a lie. Secondly, I'm not gonna poke your eye out," Luke says. Perhaps he is overselling his abilities a smidge. It’s only because he is consumed with the need to see Calum in as much makeup as possible. For science. "It's gonna look really good, just trust me, okay?"</p><p>"Okay," Calum says immediately. Wow, that was easy. Luke should ask Calum for things more often. Who knew he was such a pushover?</p><p>"You've gotta keep your eyes open this time," Luke warns, placing his hand on the side of Calum’s chin and tilting it up gently. Having Calum’s half-lined eyes trained on him is like staring directly into LED headlights. What the fuck was Luke just about to do? Oh right, eyeliner. Waterline. “It’s going to feel kind of weird, but try not to move.”</p><p>“Okay,” Calum says. He sounds kind of breathless. Probably worried about being blinded. Luke steadies his right hand on top of Calum’s cheekbone and starts at the inner corner of Calum’s waterline. He makes it about halfway across before Calum jerks back. </p><p>“Jesus Christ, that’s fucking weird,” he says, blinking up at the ceiling. He goes to rub his eye, and Luke snatches his hand out of midair. </p><p>“Oh my God, don’t touch it!” he yelps. “Come on, I’m so close.” He realizes his mistake too late. Calum grins wickedly. </p><p>“That’s what she said,” they say at the same time. Calum smiles bigger. The combination of the eyeliner and that fucking smile is making Luke’s heart scream. It hits him that they’re still holding hands. This is a lot to handle. Hand-le. Haha. Fuck. All of these stupid feelings are getting stupid hard to ignore. Luke will be sending Calum the hospital bill for his impending heart attack. </p><p>“Now shut up and let me make you pretty. Well, prettier,” Luke amends. Fuck it. Calum can know Luke thinks he’s pretty. He is. Luke studies Calum’s fluffy curls, his round cheeks and sharp cheekbones, dark eyes and soft-looking lips. Wow, his fucking lips. No. No impure thoughts this close to show time, for Christ’s sake. </p><p>Calum’s mouth drops open a little bit. Luke prepares himself for whatever joke Calum’s about to make.</p><p>“You calling me pretty?”</p><p>Luke blanches. Why isn’t Calum teasing him? This was not a part of the approved dialogue. </p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Luke says. “I am. You are.”</p><p>“Well, then you’re fucking gorgeous,” Calum says. Maybe Luke slipped coming up the concrete staircase to the theater, died, and is now in heaven. That would explain the events of the past twenty minutes. But no, that can’t be right. He’s gay. He’s going to the other place. </p><p>“Shut up,” Luke says, because he’s a smooth fucking operator. Calum shifts closer to him on his stool, cocking his head up at Luke, like a challenge. </p><p>“Make me,” Calum says. He looks at Luke’s lips for a split second, and then meets his eyes again. Okay, Luke is definitely deceased. The room feels like the bottom of the ocean, compressed under miles of water. Luke wants to kiss this boy so, so badly. But if he makes a move now and it goes wrong, it’ll ruin the show and whatever balance they’ve struck for almost two years now. He can’t let that happen. </p><p>“Stop distracting me,” Luke says. “I’m trying to make you pretty. This is hard work.”</p><p>“Hey!” Calum says, and Luke feels some of the water drain out of the room. He can breathe a little better now. “I thought you said I already was pretty! Now you’re saying I’m not?”</p><p>“I have to keep you on your toes, Hood,” Luke says. “I can’t be inflating your ego too much. Your head is already massive.”</p><p>Calum laughs, deep in the back of his throat. “I like it when you’re mean,” he says. “It’s hot.”</p><p>“You’re insufferable,” Luke tells him. He feels extremely unsteady, like he’s just done chenes across the floor without spotting. Unfortunately, it seems the time has come to let go of Calum’s hand so he can continue applying his eyeliner. But when he goes to lift his hand away, Calum follows without letting go. </p><p>“Cal,” Luke says, and lets himself bask in the smile Calum gives him at the nickname. “I need my hand back.” He can feel himself smiling stupidly back, but he can’t be bothered to stop it. </p><p>Calum honest-to-God pouts at him. That should be fucking illegal. </p><p>“No,” Calum says. Luke huffs with as much mock-exasperation as he can muster, which is a lot, considering he would rather wear crocs onstage than let go of Calum’s hand.</p><p>“How about if I promise to hold your hand again when I’m done doing your makeup,” Luke says, trying to make it sound like a favor and not something he’s been dreaming about for almost two years. Calum makes a face like he’s mulling over a high-caliber business offer. Luke stares at the little furrow between his eyebrows. </p><p>“Okay, fine,” Calum says, drawing out the vowels like a whiny little kid, dropping Luke’s hand. Luke cannot believe he is attracted to this boy. </p><p>Shaking his head a little, Luke leans over Calum’s face again and finishes doing his waterline. The other eye goes a lot more smoothly. Luke just has to concentrate really hard on not getting distracted by Calum’s everything. He finally finishes, and sets the pencil down, so that he can take Calum’s face in both of his hands and study his handiwork. When he decides it looks even enough, he steps back for a better look. </p><p>And, like, fucking hell. </p><p>He doesn’t want to brag too much, but it looks really fucking good. Granted, his canvas was pretty great to begin with. Good thing Luke has nice strong dancer legs, or his knees would definitely be weak right now. </p><p>"I wanna see," Calum says after Luke has stared at him for what feels like centuries. Luke gestures weakly to the mirror behind Calum. He doesn't trust himself to speak. His throat feels like the Sahara. How dare he lose his composure like this over a boy in makeup. Why did he think this was a good idea? This was blatant self-sabotage. How the fuck is he supposed to focus on performing knowing Calum looks like that because of him?</p><p>“Fuck. This does look cool,” Calum says. “I look like Billie Joe Armstrong.” </p><p>“Oh my god, he was my first crush,” Luke says without thinking. Calum smirks at him in the mirror. </p><p>“You have excellent taste,” he says. Luke can see his own face turning red. Goddammit. </p><p> “Of course I do,” Luke says. Calum turns back around to face him. </p><p>“Alright, is that it then?” he asks. Luke is probably imagining the disappointment in his voice. He's just projecting his own reluctance to let this bit end. But in case he's not, Luke is totally gonna take the opening.</p><p>“Well, since you asked—”</p><p>“Oh God—”</p><p>“I would commit a crime to put glitter on your face. Just a little. Pretty please?” Luke attempts to make his eyes as pleading as possible. He’s got on eyeliner and gold eyeshadow. Surely that helps. </p><p>Calum hesitates for a grand total of two seconds. </p><p>“Yeah, alright, fuck it, fine,” he says. “But it better be just a little.”</p><p>“Yes!” Luke squeals, jumping up and down a couple times before digging back through his makeup bag. “This is the best day of my life. White or pink?” he asks Calum, holding up the two containers. </p><p>“Pink,” Calum says immediately.</p><p>“Wonderful choice,” Luke says, shoving the white back into his bag. He grabs his fluffiest makeup brush, opens the glitter, and dips it in. </p><p>“Okay, I’m gonna highlight your cheekbones,” he tells Calum. </p><p>“Dope,” Calum says. “I have no fucking clue what that means.” </p><p>Luke laughs and dusts the glitter lightly across Calum’s cheeks and up past his brows. Calum’s face visibly relaxes under the touch, and Luke smiles a little. He can’t resist swiping the brush across the tip of Calum’s nose.</p><p>Satisfied, he steps back. And feels faint. A boy in glitter is something that can be so personal.</p><p>“Wow,” he says. “You look—”</p><p>He’s not really sure that the right word exists that would let him express how magical Calum looks without revealing how hopelessly gone for him Luke is. He’s tragically saved from answering by the dressing room door flying open. </p><p>“AHA!” Michael shouts. “I’ve been looking—holy shit, bro, you look hot.”</p><p>“Thanks, bro,” Calum says. “It’s because Lukey is a miracle worker.” He reaches out and wraps an arm around Luke’s waist, pulling him backwards between his legs where he’s still sitting on the stool. Luke’s grip on his makeup brush would hit a seven on the Richter scale. </p><p>“Yeah, he is,” Michael says from his spot in the doorway. “This is the first time I’ve ever looked at your face and not thrown up in my mouth a little.”</p><p>“Hey! Fuck you,” Calum says. </p><p>“No, thanks,” Michael says. “Now come on, the house opens in five minutes. I wanna spy on the audience from the wings. Pip pip cheerio, let us make posthaste!” He says the last bit in an over-the-top British accent as he heads out the door. What a fucking weirdo. </p><p>“I don’t think he used ‘posthaste’ right,” Luke says. </p><p>“Definitely not,” Calum agrees. “Righty-o then, you heard the old chap!” He gives Luke’s waist a squeeze before he stands and stretches. “Gotta go show off your brilliant artistry to the lads!” </p><p>Luke inhales deeply to bring his soul back into his body. Then, he busies himself with putting his makeup away and breathing evenly. He cannot pass out because of a cute boy squeezing his waist. Even if the cute boy is wearing makeup he let Luke put on him. Is this real life? </p><p>When he’s done, he turns around to see Calum offering him a hand. </p><p>“You owe me a hand hold,” he says, the cheeky fucker. Luke obviously has no choice but to oblige. </p><p>The show is an explosion of sweat and adrenaline. The curtains open, and Luke’s brain checks out of reality and becomes a running loop of <em> dance dance dance.</em> He dances his way through his first two pieces with only one minor slip up, where he falls out of a turn half a count early. Whatever. He can blame it on the fact that he saw Calum watching him from the wings right as he prepped for said turn. </p><p>Speaking of Calum. Luke currently has time before his third piece to watch the Ninjaz from backstage, as long as he changes costumes at lightspeed. Which he manages to do, fueled by his all-consuming desire to see Stage Makeup Calum in action. </p><p>He stands in the wing furthest downstage for the best view, hidden in the curtains. The music starts, and five seconds in, Luke is catatonic. Fucking wow. There’s a reason why the Ninjaz are the most popular crew on campus. Their energy and musicality is absolutely fucking insane. But Luke is only watching one person. </p><p>In the dark red and blue stage lighting, Calum looks like some sort of deity pulled directly out of Luke’s favorite fantasies. He can switch from hard hits to loose grooves in an instant and Luke does not understand how that’s possible. The blond in Calum’s hair and the glitter on his cheekbones catch the lights with every turn. Past Luke was right. This is a glorious way to die. The whole world could go up in flames and Luke would be forever stuck in space and time watching Calum. </p><p>The piece ends in a nuclear explosion of cheering and applause. Luke high-tails it out of the wing so that he doesn’t get run over by the dancers coming offstage. Also, he cannot be caught by Calum right now. He is in absolutely no state to have a conversation with anyone, least of all the person who’s rendered him speechless. </p><p>Ducking back into his dressing room, a cloud of hairspray hits him like a truck. Hopefully this shit is not toxic, or else he is going to have some serious health complications later in life. With just a couple more pieces left before intermission, he’s feeling pretty good. His hamstring hasn’t even been a bother. Although that’s probably from the adrenaline and the fact that he’s coated it in BioFreeze twice already. The back of his leg is a sticky mess of menthol. Lovely. </p><p>Ashton is sitting up on the dressing room counter in front of the mirror, fucking with his hair. It looks the same as it always does. Not that Luke would ever tell him that, because he is a good friend. He’s only mean to cute dark haired boys that drive him up the fucking wall. Ashton turns around as Luke approaches him. </p><p>“Hey Lukey-poo!” he chirps. Luke wrinkles his nose. </p><p>“Absolutely not. Try again.” </p><p>“I cannot wait for In-n-Out,” Ashton continues, completely ignoring him. “I can already taste that burger. It’s gonna be fucking orgasmic.”</p><p>“That’s not even happening until after closing night tomorrow, weirdo. And how the fuck could you possibly be thinking about food right now?” Luke asks. “I had to hide my granola bar at the bottom of my bag because just looking at it made me ill.”</p><p>“That’s because you’re a freak,” Ashton says lightly. </p><p>“Fair enough,” Luke concedes, dipping his fingers into Ashton’s hair product and fixing his own bangs. “Dude. Is it just me, or is the audience on fucking crack tonight?”</p><p>“I was literally just thinking that, what the fuck,” Ashton says, looking at Luke with wide eyes. Like it’s uncommon for them to say the same thing at the same time. It’s not. </p><p>“It must be because of the hip hip teams,” Luke says. “No one ever screams like this at our mid-semester modern shows.” </p><p>“True. That’s because modern is boring. But I don’t remember it being like this at last year’s showcase,” Ashton says. </p><p>“Bold of you to assume I remember absolutely anything from last year,” Luke says. “Outta sight, outta mind, baby.” </p><p>“Fair enough,” Ashton says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go change my underwear before your piece. I’ve already completely sweat through these.” He hops off the counter and rummages through his bag until he finds a clean pair of boxers, and swings them around above his head like a helicopter as he leaves the room. Luke snickers and shakes his head a little as he starts getting out his next costume. </p><p>Halfway through the last dance before his own piece, Luke is waiting in the wings. He’s performed countless times before, but sometime in the past few minutes, his excitement has morphed into anxiety, which is rude. His head feels like it’s been microwaved on high for five minutes straight. </p><p>The dancers on stage are moving through what Luke recognizes as their last big sequence. Then they’re done. And then he’s on. Oh, God. Why is that thought making him shut down? He’s done this a billion times so it's nothing new, except that it's his own choreography and the audience is way louder than he's used to. Because there are hip hop teams here. Including Calum’s team. Calum is here. Calum is going to be watching up close from backstage, where he could catch every little mistake. Not that he would, because he’s an amazing human being and Luke really likes him. Definitely way more than he should. </p><p>Luke’s breath, he suddenly realizes, is coming in fast and shallow. His arms feel like they’re full of helium, light and tingly, like they’re floating away from his body. Fuck. This is not ideal. He needs physical grounding. Touch. But Ashton is waiting to come on from the other side of the stage. There’s no time to get to him. </p><p>Luke turns around to search the backstage area, seemingly in slow motion. He recognizes absolutely no one, eyes desperately scanning groups of dancers whispering quietly, until he makes eye contact with someone. Calum. Of course it’s Calum. Even in the dim backstage lighting, Luke sees the concern cross his face. Luke opens his mouth to call Calum over, but nothing comes out. Miraculously, he gets the hint, and in a few strides he’s filling up Luke’s entire field of vision. His body heat and his scent and the sound of him breathing is just grounding enough to loosen Luke’s jaw a bit. He didn't even realize he'd been grinding his teeth. </p><p>“Hey,” Calum says lowly. “Are you—”</p><p>On stage, the dance ends, and the audience roars. It’s the loudest sound in the entire world. Luke feels like he’s being pummeled by massive ocean waves. His arms are completely numb by now. He feels like a shapeless blob.</p><p>“I need you to squeeze my arms,” Luke attempts to shout at Calum over the noise. He has to shake whatever this is Right Now. </p><p>Calum wordlessly steps forward and grips Luke’s elbows. He squeezes a couple times and then moves his grip lower down Luke’s forearms, squeezing periodically. It’s like being woken up from a bizarre and realistic dream. Thank fuck, it’s working. Luke is being plugged back into the Matrix, the sounds and colors around him coming back into focus. His breath fills up his chest properly for the first time in several minutes. He moves his hands and grips Calum’s forearms back. </p><p>Calum looks at the stage over Luke’s shoulder.</p><p>“You’re on,” he says. He slides his hands up to Luke’s shoulders, turning him gently in the direction of the stage. “Give ‘em hell, babe.”</p><p>The words settle in Luke's stomach like hot embers. He takes a deep, steadying breath, and feels his soul slot into place as he walks on stage. Fuck yeah. Of course he can do this. It’s dancing. It’s the best thing in the world. This is what he lives for. </p><p>The stage is dark, the techs waiting for the dancers to get situated before they cue lights and music. Luke feels and hears his dancers shuffle around into their opening places. And then the lights go up. </p><p>Now that he’s settled safely in this realm, the energy rolling off the audience is fueling instead of oppressive. Like gasoline poured over the fire sparked by Calum’s words as he pushed Luke on stage. Luke thanks God, not for the first time, that muscle memory exists. He feels like a passenger in his own body, his mind free to float in a screaming cloud of endorphins. It’s like flying. </p><p>The rest of his dancers are clearly feeling it too. He catches Ashton’s eye during a formation change and sees the ecstatic look of <em> HOLY SHIT </em> written across his face. </p><p>Luke nails his turn sequence. The audience loses their minds. The rest of the piece is over in two breaths. Holding the final pose, chest heaving, Luke waits until the lights black out before he falls into motion. Ashton is at his side in an instant. </p><p>“Fucking— holy shit dude,” he pants. “I’ve never—that was—”</p><p>Luke nods aggressively. He’s breathing harder than he ever has in his life, probably. He really, really wants to find Calum. Not for any particular reason. Just, Calum. </p><p>“I’m gonna— I’ve got a piece right after this one,” Ashton gasps. “Fuck me.” He sprints off towards the dressing room. </p><p>Luke shakily makes his way backstage in a daze. Where’s—he needs to find—</p><p>“Luke!”</p><p>Holy fuck. There he is. Calum is a glittering beacon, smiling brighter than the stage lights. He’s holding his arms out, like he’s asking for a hug. Luke’s feet move towards him automatically. He doesn’t realize how fast he’s going until crashes into Calum with so much force that they both go stumbling backwards. Calum bursts into laughter and catches him around the waist. </p><p>“Luke, Luke! You were fucking incredible,” Calum rambles into Luke’s ear. “Completely fucking unreal. I’ve never seen anyone dance like that. I think I—”</p><p>Oh my fucking God. Luke needs Calum to stop complimenting him. Luke needs to make him stop talking. Right now, before Luke combusts. So he does the first thing he thinks of, the thing he’s been wanting to do since day one. </p><p>He kisses Calum. </p><p>Calum makes a surprised noise against Luke’s mouth as the end of his sentence is swallowed up. And then he’s stepping impossibly closer, running his hands up Luke’s back and tilting his head to kiss back. </p><p>Luke is still wildly out of breath, and he pulls away with a gasp after only a few seconds. He wants to relive this moment in a time loop forever. Luke can feel Calum breathing almost as hard as he is, even though Calum hasn’t danced in a while. Luke grins. </p><p>“Shut up,” Luke hears himself say. Calum draws back a little, and Luke can see his enormous smile and the glitter on his face that Luke realizes must now be on his own face as well. Because he’d just kissed Calum. Oh holy shit. What the fuck. </p><p>“I can’t believe you kissed me first,” Calum says. He can barely talk around his smile. “I have been wanting to since, like—”</p><p>“Since the first day your dumb ass walked into the wrong studio,” Luke finishes for him. Calum giggles elatedly. It should sound stupid but it’s not, because it’s Calum. It’s insanely cute. Luke swoops down and kisses the glittery tip of Calum’s nose. Calum squeaks and pulls Luke into a tight hug, hooking his chin over Luke’s shoulder. Luke buries his nose in Calum’s neck and squeezes back. </p><p>They stand like that for an indeterminate amount of time. Right as they start to pull apart, Luke hears his name being called. </p><p>“Lucas! Where the fuck—oh finally, thank fucking God,” Ashton interrupts himself, taking note of Calum and Luke with their arms around each other. He looks at Calum. “I was about to just kiss you for him, he was taking so long.”</p><p>“Well, thank you for not,” Calum says. “No offense.”</p><p>“None taken!” Ashton says brightly. “Luke, we have another piece in like ten minutes, fool.”</p><p>“Oh shit, right, yeah. Dance,” Luke says intelligently. He turns to Calum. “Help me touch up my makeup?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey you lovely people! I wanna make it known that the name Ninjaz is a bastardization of the Kinjaz, an actual dance crew. They're a favorite of mine, and I highly recommend their concept video to Humble. Good shit. The name Syncopate I think I just pulled out of my ass. If it sounds eerily familiar to you please let me know I'd love to figure out if I got it from somewhere. Thank you for reading chapter one! I like chapter two better so have fun. &lt;3 petalrock</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It figures that the first thing Luke does when someone hands him a microphone during dress rehearsal is mouth-breathe so loudly into it that everyone in the auditorium thinks they’ve just been bombed. Calum would like to say the sound is what drew his attention to Luke, but he’d be lying. He’d already been watching Luke, who was pacing around the stage with a frown on his face as he tried to get the attention of his group of dancers.</p><p>Actually, Calum has been watching Luke pretty much constantly since the day he busted into the wrong studio for Ninjaz practice. He hadn’t noticed Luke in the corner by the door at first, too fixated on making it to class on time and winning everyone over with donuts. But then Luke opened his mouth to tell Calum he was in the wrong place, and Calum nearly dropped his bribery doughnuts all over the floor of Studio B.</p><p>It’s just, Calum has a type. He’s tried to deny it because he hates being so predictable and unexciting, but there’s a reason it’s a cliche to lust after leggy blue-eyed blondes. And racism is only one of those reasons! Luke had stared at Calum, his obnoxiously earnest blue eyes locked on Calum’s face for a long moment, never quite making eye contact, and Calum was disarmed. It wasn’t a feeling Calum was accustomed to, and he panicked, fleeing the studio and shutting the door on Luke’s pretty face. He’s not proud of it.</p><p>Since then, he’d worked up the nerve to actually <em> talk </em> to Luke, and that made it better and worse all at once. Better, because he got to spend time with Luke and experience his deeply twisted sense of humor and adorably awkward brand of confidence. Worse, because it just made him like Luke more. </p><p>Luke finally manages to wrangle his dancers and they start their routine, and Calum’s eyes stay glued to Luke. As a hip hop dancer, Calum can’t quite wrap his mind around the way Luke’s body moves, fluid and twisting and painting beautiful lines. Partway through the routine, the spotlight hits Luke as he performs a complex series of turns, ending in a move specifically designed to make Calum groan, because it showcases exactly how flexible those long legs of Luke’s actually are. He dips at the waist and his nose is basically touching his foot as his other leg kicks out behind him, perfectly straight, as he whips in a circle. Calum doesn’t understand the physics behind any of it; he just watches in awe, living for the moment Luke’s head snaps back up, and his hair is tousled and his face is just the slightest bit pink from the quick rush of blood to his head.</p><p>Calum whoops and whistles, emboldened by the fact that Luke is 30 feet away and in the middle of dancing his ass off, therefore unable to actually respond to Calum’s desperately obvious flirting. The music ends, and Luke’s gaze drifts to Calum. He realizes that he’s just standing in the wings staring at Luke with a maniacal grin on his face, which is decidedly unchill. </p><p>It’s really fucking annoying, because Calum prides himself on being chill. Flirting with a hot human? No problem for Cool Guy Cal. But for some reason, when it comes to Luke, all Calum can do is wolf whistle like a New York City construction worker and watch him like a deranged serial killer stalking his next victim. He kind of doubts Luke is into serial killers. Construction workers, though...maybe.</p><p>Calum watches as Luke and Ashton fuck around on their way off stage. They’re touching each other a lot, and Calum feels jealousy for maybe the second time in his life. (The first time was when he was in middle school, and his mom got him and Mali new bedding, but she gave Mali the pink comforter and Calum got stuck with white, even though he <em> really fucking wanted the pink one</em>.) Luke seems to be headed toward him and Calum tries to load up his best flirty smirk.</p><p>“Are you fucking insane? Do you have a death wish?” Luke demands, putting his hands on his hips like a toddler about to throw a tantrum. A really hot toddler. <em> Fuck </em> he did not just think that. He can’t stop his delirious laughter, and Luke is decidedly unimpressed, crossing his arms and watching Calum with an impatient frown. </p><p>Shit. Luke just thinks he’s being an annoying jerk. Not good. Calum needs to get this back on track. “Aw, Lukey, you could never kill me,” he says coyly. (Actually he could. Just not in the way Luke is thinking.) “I’m way too cute for that.”</p><p>“I don’t care how cute you are, dipshit, anyone who compromises the integrity of my piece must die,” Luke says. </p><p>Hold up. Did Luke just call him <em> cute</em>? Sure, he also called him a dipshit and threatened to kill him, but... <em> Luke thinks he’s cute? </em> It’s not like Calum has never thought about the possibility that maybe Luke has more-than-friendly thoughts about him, but he never thought Luke would have the guts to actually <em> say </em> it.</p><p>Calum’s not going to let this slide. “You think I’m cute?” </p><p>“I never said that. I never said you weren’t, but I also never said you were,” Luke stammers, and Calum might be floating. Just call him Balloon Boy. “Did you miss the part where I said I’m gonna kill you?” Luke asks, with a look that’s probably meant to be threatening but mostly just comes across as Luke needing a hug. Calum would be happy to oblige.</p><p>Instead, he channels Cool Guy Cal, wiggling his eyebrows flirtatiously. “You totally think I’m cute.”</p><p>Before Calum can investigate this rare insight into Luke’s mind any further, Michael appears from God knows where and crashes into him, knocking the air out of his lungs on impact. With Michael around, Calum immediately falls into his Cool Guy Cal persona even further, playing off Michael to thoroughly bewitch Luke with an onslaught of inside jokes and childish behavior. Or maybe Luke’s just annoyed, because now he’s warning Calum and Michael they’re going to get kicked out of the show if they don’t calm down. As if. Calum has Patty, the director, wrapped around his finger.</p><p>“No way,” Michael says, arguing with Luke’s assessment that Patty’s going to show them the door. “We’re way too swaggy.”</p><p>“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that,” Luke says indignantly. His perturbed expression is so damn cute, Calum can’t help but antagonize him further.</p><p>“He’s right, though,” Calum says. “Peep the drip.” He and Michael execute their well-practiced Crocs reveal. Luke’s eyes follow the flourish of their hands and drop to their feet.</p><p>“Oh my fucking God. You are not wearing crocs onstage.”</p><p>"It's the best idea we've ever had," Michael says. "They have no traction whatsoever. I'm going to eat shit."</p><p>“Now that, I approve of,” Luke says, without a hint of humor in his voice. Calum knows better, though, and he laughs hysterically, because Luke is really fucking funny. Which reminds Calum of something that maybe he shouldn’t show Luke, because it will completely give him away, but he really wants to, and the moment feels right somehow.</p><p>He reaches for his foot. “Look, I even put in my special jibbitz for the occasion!” He pulls off his Croc and shoves it in Luke’s face, letting him get a close-up view of the tiny pink ballet slipper charm. Michael had roasted the shit out of him when he caught Calum browsing the ballet slipper charms on crocs.com. “If you’re trying to woo Luke, just suck his dick! Cheaper than jibbitz!” Michael had said. He really has no concept of romance.</p><p>Calum feels extremely vulnerable; his smelly shoe right under Luke’s nose as he basically reveals the fact that he’s been pining over Luke for months. He wills Luke not to take any deep breaths as he stares at Calum’s Croc for an indeterminate amount of time. Calum prides himself on taking amazing care of his Crocs, but even though he just cleaned them last night, his feet are really fucking stinky.</p><p>“You don’t do ballet,” Luke finally says, and his eyes look almost as vulnerable as Calum feels. Calum has no idea what is running through Luke’s mind right now, but he’s overcome with the need to reassure him.</p><p>“Nope,” Calum says. “But you do!” </p><p>Luke looks at him blankly as Calum slides his shoe back on, and Calum hopes he didn’t just mess something up by flirting like an elementary school boy. He may as well be kicking Luke in his shins and then kissing him on the cheek with Kool-Aid mouth.</p><p>He hears Patty’s voice calling for the next group, which sadly means the end of today’s episode of Calum’s Lame Attempt At Flirting. </p><p>"Well, time to test Patty's limits," Calum says, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. "My favorite sport."</p><p>"She's gonna have an aneurysm," Luke says, but it’s conspiratorial, a sly smile pulling at his lips. It makes Calum’s heart jump like a bottle of Mountain Dew Major Melon. He grins and gives Luke his best wink. He’s been practicing in the mirror so he’s pretty confident he pulls it off.</p><p>He’s rewarded when Luke grins back at him. “You’re ridiculous,” Luke says, but he says it with the same tone Calum uses to say hello to dogs on the street, and Calum’s chest feels like there’s a tiny ballerina doing Luke’s fancy spins behind his sternum.</p><p>“You know it, baby,” Calum says. “Live young, die fast. Or whatever.” He spins around and heads toward center stage before Luke can catch him blushing. He’s got a reputation to uphold, after all.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>It’s show night, and Calum is too preoccupied trying to track down Luke to be nervous about his performance. He’s not usually nervous anyway; once he’s out on stage and the lights are in his eyes, he barely even processes that there’s a crowd of people watching him. The cheers and claps are just white noise while he focuses on the beat of the music. So no, he’s not worried about the performance. He’s worried about catching a glimpse of Luke; maybe grabbing a few minutes to flirt with him before the show starts.</p><p>He’s prowling around backstage, on the lookout for Luke’s curly head, when suddenly he spots him, pawing around near a pile of costumes lined up on the back wall. Calum skitters over before Luke can disappear on him, but right as he approaches, Luke pops up and spins quickly toward the dressing rooms. He nearly slams headfirst into Calum, but Calum manages to catch him by the elbows before he topples them both over into the pile of sequins and tulle.</p><p>“Hey!” Calum says, silently thanking his excellent reflexes. This might be the smoothest thing Calum has ever done in his life. Luke better fucking appreciate how cool that was. </p><p>He lets his hands linger on Luke’s elbows, and Luke doesn’t pull away. Luke looks a little starry-eyed, but Calum figures he’s just freaked out from almost concussing both of them less than an hour before the show.  It might also be the effect of the gold glitter coating Luke’s eyelids, making his eyes look even bluer than normal and giving the impression he might actually be a magical creature. Calum has the strange urge to lick the glitter off Luke’s eyelids. “Are you ready to dazzle the crowds with your ridiculously long legs?” he asks, pushing the thought away.</p><p>“Fuck yeah I am.” Luke says <em> fuck </em> a lot. Calum shouldn’t still experience a visceral reaction <em> every fucking time</em>, but there’s just something so satisfying about his pretty ballet boy having such a dirty mouth. He squeezes Luke’s elbows more tightly; he can’t help it. “Are you ready, to uh, hip and hop?” Luke asks. Calum wonders if he squeezes Luke’s elbows again if he’ll recite a different adorably dorky line, like the SpongeBob plushie on Calum’s bookshelf at home.</p><p>“Hell yes,” he replies, trying to suppress the foolish smile taking over his face at the prospect of being this close to Luke. (Not to mention the idea of squeezing words out of him. The kind of words SpongeBob would <em> never </em> say.)</p><p>Luke frowns, and Calum finally lets his hands drop from Luke’s elbows, worried he’s made him uncomfortable. But Luke leans in close, inspecting Calum’s face carefully. “You’re not wearing any stage makeup.” </p><p>Luke’s still so close; too close for Calum to think straight. “Makeup is for pretty boys, not me,” Calum says, thinking about how perfectly that gold glitter compliments <em> his </em> pretty boy’s face. “I’m a big, tough, manly man.” </p><p>“Shut up,” Luke says. “You can be a tough manly man and wear makeup so that your features aren’t completely washed out by the stage lights. You’re gonna look like Slenderman.”</p><p>“Slenderman is hot,” Calum blurts. Shit. That’s definitely one of those things that is <em> maybe </em> okay to think to yourself when you’re lying in bed at night, but it is most definitely NOT something you say to the guy you’re crushing on. It also probably is going to get him put on some kind of government watchlist of future domestic terrorists. Oh well. He’s already gone this far. Might as well try to make the most of it. “He’s pale and he’s got long legs,” Calum adds, eyeing Luke meaningfully. “That’s exactly my type.” </p><p>And then Luke’s hand is on Calum’s wrist and he’s dragging him toward the dressing rooms. “Come on, I’m putting eyeliner on you.” Calum smirks behind Luke’s back as he follows him into Luke’s team’s empty dressing room. What a fucking legend he is, turning his Slenderman kink into legit flirting material.</p><p>Luke sets Calum on a stool and Calum looks around, dazed at the sheer amount of glitter and sequin strewn around the room. It <em> smells </em> pink. Calum feels like an oaf sitting in the middle of this sea of glitz while he’s wearing a baggy hoodie and sneakers. But Calum likes pink, and he likes the feeling of Luke’s hand wrapped around his wrist, so much so that he almost whines when Luke releases it so he can dig through a makeup bag. Cool Guy Cal would be so disappointed in him. </p><p>The silence is loaded as Luke pokes through various potions and creams and whatever the fuck else one keeps in a makeup bag. "The things I do for pretty boys," Calum says, trying to cut the tension. Luke just mumbles to himself as he continues to study the fucking mystery substances in his bag, and Calum thinks maybe he’s the only one feeling the tension, for better or for worse.</p><p>"Okay, give me your face," Luke says, suddenly coming at Calum with a pointy object. Calum had a dream that started like this once.</p><p>“Gladly,” he replies, suppressing his smirk as he recalls how that particular dream progressed. Calum is eye level with Luke’s chest (<em>his fucking chest</em>), and that certainly isn’t helping his thoughts stay pure.</p><p>Luke tentatively puts his hand on Calum’s cheek and Calum has to suppress the shiver that rolls up his spine at the contact. Fuck. He hopes Luke can’t tell how much he’s freaking out right now. Hopefully whatever Luke is about to do with that pointy pencil thing is sufficient enough to distract him from Calum going supernova. He watches Luke move closer, so close Calum can see the shadow of his eyelashes on the tops of his cheekbones and the little freckles on his nose.</p><p>Luke pauses when the pointy pencil is within inches of Calum’s face. “Close your eyes, you dork,” he says softly, and <em> oh </em> does Calum want to hear him talk like that again. He closes his eyes, and it’s disappointing not to be able to look at Luke, but it’s also freeing. Now Calum feels safe silently freaking out as Luke’s hand presses into his cheek.</p><p>He feels Luke’s breath, gentle on his forehead, and then the soft tickle of something on his eyelid. The sensation makes him tingle all over, and he’s grateful his giant hoodie covers the goosebumps on his arms. He thought the pointy pencil would be painful but <em> no</em>, in Luke’s gentle hand the drag of the pencil tip on Calum’s skin is downright relaxing. The feeling disappears abruptly, and Calum takes a shaky breath, anticipating what will happen next.</p><p>It’s more hands on his face. More of <em> Luke’s </em> hands on his face, one of them precariously close to Calum’s neck, and if he’s not careful he’s going to give away his second biggest kink behind Slenderman. Far too soon, or maybe not soon enough, Luke releases Calum’s face. “Okay, let me see,” he says.</p><p>Calum opens his eyes cautiously, and Luke’s staring back at him, a euphoric smile on his face. “Alright, you can look. I’m an artistic genius,” he says, moving away so Calum can look in the mirror. Calum resists the urge to grab at Luke’s waist and pull him back into his personal space where he belongs.</p><p>Instead, he focuses on his reflection in the mirror, startling a bit at what he sees. “Oh.” He leans closer to the mirror, shifting his head to peer at himself from different angles. His eyes are lined in dark black, making the whites pop and the brown of his irises gleam. He looks dangerous, like a supervillain or a violent emo in the pit at a My Chemical Romance show. “Shit. I look kind of hot.”</p><p>"Come back so I can do your waterline,” Luke says. Calum will do whatever Luke asks him to do. He shifts back to his spot on the stool.</p><p>“My what?” He’ll do whatever Luke asks him to do, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have questions. What the fuck is a waterline? Sounds like it could be dangerously close to parts of Calum that Luke shouldn’t be touching this close to show time.</p><p>"Your waterline. The under part of your eye." Luke tugs his lower eyelid down a smidge and points at his own eye, right where lashes meet... well, waterline, apparently. It’s decidedly <em>not </em> sexy, and it’s not a place anyone or anything should be touching, as far as Calum is concerned. He has the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it.</p><p>"That sounds dangerous," Calum says. "I kind of need my vision to dance.</p><p>Luke scoffs, and his own eyes roll dramatically. "Firstly, you wore sunglasses indoors during rehearsal yesterday, so that's a lie. Secondly, I'm not gonna poke your eye out. It's gonna look really good, just trust me, okay?" Luke is insistent and Calum wants nothing more than for Luke to think he looks good. (Except maybe for Luke to also think he feels good, but again. Not thoughts he should be having less than an hour before show time.)</p><p>"Okay," Calum says eagerly.</p><p>"You've gotta keep your eyes open this time," Luke says, but Calum barely processes the words, because Luke’s hand is back on his face again, sliding down the side of Calum’s chin and tilting it up towards him. It’s so fucking close to Calum’s throat that he could scream. “It’s going to feel kind of weird, but try not to move.”</p><p>“Okay,” Calum says, trying to compose himself. Luke moves his sharp pencil under Calum’s eye, and it feels like he’s about to get a fork in his eyeball, so he jerks away.</p><p>“Jesus Christ, that’s fucking weird.” He reflexively reaches up to rub his eye, but Luke catches his hand before he makes it that far. </p><p>“Oh my God, don’t touch it!” Luke squeals, right into Calum’s ear. “Come on, I’m so close.” Um. Right. Calum needs to make a joke <em> STAT</em>, or he’s going to be in real trouble. He looks at Luke, sees the smile threatening to spread across his face, and he smirks up at him.</p><p>“That’s what she said,” they say in unison. Calum grins, all-consumed with that feeling of pure joy that comes from sharing a brain with someone else for a split second; the feeling that you’re genuinely understood, even if it’s fleeting.</p><p>“Now shut up and let me make you pretty. Well, prettier,” Luke says, hand tightening around Calum’s. Shit. Does he focus on the fact that Luke is still holding his hand, or on the fact that Luke just called him pretty? He figures the hand-holding is happening, no question about it, so maybe he needs to look into the <em> pretty</em>.</p><p>“You calling me pretty?”</p><p>Luke looks taken aback, like he genuinely can’t believe Calum would question him on this. But in Calum’s mind, <em> Luke’s </em> the pretty one. It’s one thing to be called cute or hot, but <em> pretty </em> is a different thing altogether. Pretty is Luke’s delicate nose, the dimple in his chin, the sapphire blue of his eyes and the gentle curve of his lips.</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Luke says. “I am. You are.” </p><p>Calum wants to shake his head and argue; wants to tell Luke he <em> clearly </em> doesn’t understand the meaning of pretty if he thinks it’s a word worthy of using on Calum. “Well, then you’re fucking gorgeous,” he says, settling on the half-truth. He’s sweating and Luke is blushing and it’s all suddenly a lot to deal with.</p><p>“Shut up,” Luke says. </p><p>Luckily for Calum, the blush gives Luke away. He doesn’t mean it. Calum seizes the opportunity. He slides closer to Luke; watches, entranced, as Luke’s chest jumps. “Make me.” He meets Luke’s eyes and there’s a moment where Calum thinks maybe they’re going to kiss; the tension between them about to boil over.</p><p>But then Luke averts his eyes, and the moment is lost. “Stop distracting me,” he says. “I’m trying to make you pretty. This is hard work.”</p><p>Okay, back to the usual games then. It’s not ideal, but it’s still flirting with Luke, so it’s still really fucking good. “Hey! I thought you said I was already pretty! Now you’re saying I’m not?”</p><p>“I have to keep you on your toes, Hood,” Luke says. “I can’t be inflating your ego too much. Your head is already massive.”</p><p>Jesus Christ, does he love it when Luke gets feisty. It’s almost as good as when he swears. “I like it when you’re mean,” Calum says. “It’s hot.”</p><p>“You’re insufferable.” Luke tries to extract his hand from Calum’s, but Calum refuses to let go.</p><p>“Cal. I need my hand back.” No, you know what? Luke calling him <em> Cal </em> is even better than when he swears and when he’s mean. Calum smiles up at him, and Luke smiles back, and it’s so fucking beautiful. Luke’s smile is brighter than the stage spotlight; and as much as Calum loves being in the spotlight, he loves basking in the glow of Luke’s smile even more.</p><p>There’s very little that could convince Calum to stop holding hands with Luke right now. “No,” he says plainly, gripping tighter to Luke’s hand.</p><p>“How about if I promise to hold your hand again when I’m done doing your makeup,” Luke offers. </p><p>Calum pretends to consider this, as if he’s not going to jump on any and every opportunity to hold Luke’s hand. The fact that Luke even offered? Mind-blowing. How has Calum been talking to Luke for months, and only today, a mere—Calum glances at the clock—thirty fucking minutes to curtain, Luke decides to lay his cards on the table? </p><p>“Okay, fine,” Calum whines dramatically. Maybe he’s playing it up a little, because he can’t let Luke know how out-of-control he feels right now. That’s just not his brand.</p><p>Luke shakes his head and leans back in to finish stabbing Calum in the eye, and Calum does his best to stay still and behave himself. Perhaps he takes some deep breaths, trying to memorize Luke’s scent. It’s a little different than normal, sweet and chemical at the same time. Probably the byproduct of all the science experiments he has applied to his skin and hair for the show.</p><p>Eventually Luke steps back and stares at Calum, and it goes on for so long that Calum shifts uncomfortably on his stool. “I wanna see,” he demands, needing an excuse to get out from under Luke’s stare before he evaporates from the heat of it.</p><p>Luke gestures at the mirror and Calum leans in to look. “Fuck. This does look cool,” he says. “I look like Billie Joe Armstrong.” </p><p>“Oh my god, he was my first crush,” Luke says. </p><p>Calum shifts his eyes to Luke’s in the mirror, smirking at the blush on Luke’s cheeks. “You have excellent taste.” Luke turns even redder, and it’s a shame that he makes Calum feel so off balance, because Cool Guy Cal could have loads of fun messing with him. </p><p>“Of course I do,” Luke says.</p><p>Turning back to face Luke, Calum racks his brain for a reason, any reason, to stay here with Luke in the dressing room, but he can’t come up with one. “Alright, is that it then?” he asks Luke, suppressing a pout.</p><p>But then Luke gets this look of pure delight on his face, and Calum’s heart trips over its own feet.</p><p>“Well, since you asked—” Luke starts.</p><p>“Oh God—” Calum doesn’t know if he’s responding to Luke’s words or the fact that his body is apparently shutting down one organ at a time.</p><p>“I would commit a crime to put glitter on your face. Just a little. Pretty please?” Luke bats his eyelashes at Calum, and the flashes of gold glitter on his eyelids are hypnotizing. It’s possible Luke is a witch. Wizard? In any case, there’s something supernatural happening here, because Calum doesn’t even stop to think about it.</p><p>“Yeah, alright, fuck it, fine.” Luke’s face <em> lights up </em> and Calum blinks rapidly. “But it better be just a little.”</p><p>“Yes!” Luke does some happy jumps and wiggles as he turns back to paw through his makeup bag, and Calum can’t believe he’s so soft for this giant idiot boy.</p><p>“This is the best day of my life!” Luke exclaims. “White or pink?” he asks, holding out two jars of glitter.</p><p>“Pink,” Calum says. Fuck you, Mali. Look who’s getting pink now.</p><p>Luke grins, tossing the other jar of glitter back in his bag. “Wonderful choice.” He fusses around with the pink glitter for a bit and turns back to Calum, makeup brush in hand. “Okay, I’m gonna highlight your cheekbones.”</p><p>“Dope,” Calum says, distracted by Luke’s own sharp cheekbones, close enough Calum could lean forward and kiss the tops of both in one fell swoop. “I have no fucking clue what that means,” he adds absently, eyes still roaming over Luke’s face.</p><p>Luke chuckles as he leans in and swipes the brush across Calum’s cheeks. It tickles a little at first, but then it feels really fucking nice, like a tiny little cheek massage. Luke gently pulls the brush up along Calum’s temples, then down the tip of his nose, letting out a satisfied grunt. Calum feels lightheaded. Has he been holding his breath this whole time? “Wow,” Luke says.  “You look--”</p><p>“AHA!” Michael’s voice pierces their quiet bubble and Calum startles, turning to glare at Michael standing in the doorway. “I’ve been looking—holy shit, bro, you look hot.”</p><p>“Thanks, bro,” Calum says. “It’s because Lukey is a miracle worker.”  He’s feeling weirdly territorial now that Michael is in the dressing room with them. Like he needs to claim this moment and this boy before anyone has a chance to ruin it. </p><p>Before he can think better of it, he slides his arm around Luke’s waist, pulling him closer until he’s standing between Calum’s legs. Shit. Maybe he should have thought this through a little more because now he is looking and he is thinking…</p><p>“Yeah, he is,” Michael says, still yelling from the doorway just for the sake of being loud and obnoxious. “This is the first time I’ve ever looked at your face and not thrown up in my mouth a little.”</p><p>“Hey! Fuck you,” Calum says. Secretly, he’s pleased for the distraction from the fact that Luke is literally between his legs right now. Sigh.</p><p>“No thanks,” Michael says. “Now come on, the house opens in five minutes. I wanna spy on the audience from the wings.” Normally Calum would be all about this idea - he adores spying on the audience, but not as much as he adores Luke. “Pip pip cheerio, let us make posthaste!” Michael tosses over his shoulder as he leaves. Damn. Back to reality.</p><p>“I don’t think he used ‘posthaste’ right,” Luke says. </p><p>Calum honestly has no idea, but Luke is smarter than him, so he’s inclined to agree. “Definitely not,” he replies. “Righty-o then, you heard the old chap! Gotta go show off your brilliant artistry to the lads!” </p><p>He takes the opportunity to squeeze Luke’s waist before he slides off the stool, and maybe it was a bad idea, because now the feeling of Luke’s body under his hands is the only thing Calum will be able to think about for the foreseeable future. He hopes muscle memory will kick in when it’s time to perform, or else fuck remembering the choreography.</p><p>It’s quiet as Luke packs up his makeup bag. Calum thinks about following Michael out the door, but he feels like he and Luke have made some real progress, and he doesn’t want to ruin it. He waits patiently, and when Luke finally turns around, he seems surprised that Calum is still there. “You owe me a hand hold,” Calum says.</p><p>Luke takes his hand, and Calum mentally clicks his heels together.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Calum pretty much blacks out for the duration of the show. It’s always like this for him during shows - every routine flies by; he just goes on autopilot and trusts his many hours of rehearsal to see him through. He tries to catch as many of Luke’s performances as he can between the flurry of activity, and he makes a point to watch the piece Luke choreographed, even if it means foregoing his normal ritual of snacking on Triscuits in the dressing room at intermission. </p><p>He jogs backstage after dropping his hoodie in the dressing room, planning to scout out a good place in the wings to watch Luke’s piece. His entire crew of Ninjaz is already lining the backstage area, so he joins them, scanning the wings until he spots Luke. He’s watching the group on stage wrap up their dance, waiting for his cue. At first Calum smiles, but then Luke’s shoulders start heaving, and he’s shaking out his hands anxiously at his sides. Calum has creeped on Luke backstage often enough to know this is <em> not </em> normal behavior for him. </p><p>He’s debating whether or not he should go check on Luke when Luke turns around, panic in his eyes. Something is definitely wrong. Calum crosses the backstage area in record time. “Hey,” he whispers to Luke. “Are you—”</p><p>“I need you to squeeze my arms,” Luke yells over the eruption of applause in the audience. Shit. Luke’s up next. </p><p>Calum steps closer and grabs Luke’s elbows, squeezing rhythmically, then slowly moves his hands down Luke’s forearms, watching Luke’s chest carefully as his breathing starts to even out. Then Luke’s hands are on Calum’s forearms, and there’s a zap of electricity in Calum’s chest. Luke’s face relaxes, and the knot of concern in Calum’s stomach unwinds.</p><p>Distractedly, he notices the previous group of dancers exiting the stage over Luke’s shoulder. “You’re on,” he says, moving his hands to Luke’s shoulders and spinning him toward the stage. He leans in close to Luke’s ear. “Give ‘em hell, babe.”</p><p>Luke takes a deep breath and steps out onto the stage. Calum watches proudly as Luke and the rest of his group dance Luke’s piece better than they ever have before. When Luke finishes his fancy spins, the audience goes crazy, and Calum’s the worst of them all, screaming his lungs out and grinning until his cheeks hurt.</p><p>After the piece ends, Luke’s team celebrates and makes their way backstage. Luke’s whipping his head around like he’s looking for something, and Calum just hopes his gut is right about this when he yells, “Luke!”</p><p>Luke jerks around to look at him, and Calum holds his arms out, and before Calum can even take a full breath, he has an armful of boy. He staggers backward, trying to stop the momentum from the sheer force of Luke’s hug, laughing hysterically and wrapping his arms around Luke’s waist to steady them. What the fuck kind of romantic comedy moment did he just live through?</p><p>“Luke, Luke! You were fucking incredible,” he gushes. “Completely fucking unreal. I’ve never seen anyone dance like that. I think I—”</p><p>The words stop coming out of Calum’s mouth but he’s not entirely sure why. Wait. Lips. Lips on his. Fucking Luke’s fucking lips on his. He yelps embarrassingly when he realizes what’s happening, but then instinct kicks in and he wastes no time pulling Luke closer. He lets his hands graze Luke’s back as he angles his head to return the kiss.</p><p>He can feel Luke’s breath, little pants against his mouth, and Luke’s chest rising and falling quickly against his own, and then Luke is pulling away, trying to get enough air in his lungs. But he’s still <em> right there</em>, face so close to Calum’s that it leaves him breathless as well.</p><p>“Shut up,” Luke says with a grin. Huh? He didn’t say anything, did he? Oh wait. The whole bit about how incredibly Luke danced. Everything pre-kiss seems like lifetimes ago.</p><p>Calum smiles back, and there are so many things he wants to say. “I can’t believe you kissed me first,” he teases. Because honestly, if either one of them was going to work up the courage to go in for a kiss, Calum would <em> not </em> have put his money on Luke. “I have been wanting to since, like—”</p><p>“Since the first day your dumb ass walked into the wrong studio,” Luke cuts him off. Calum giggles, and Luke surprises him again by leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose, right where he dusted Calum with pink glitter a couple hours earlier.</p><p>Calum squeezes Luke into a tight hug, and Luke burrows his head in Calum’s neck and squeezes back, and if Calum wasn’t going supernova before, he certainly is now.</p><p>They stay like that for maybe two seconds, maybe two hours. Who can say?</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not a grilled cheese if it’s not grilled!” Luke eyes Calum’s tray skeptically as they head to the back corner of In-N-Out, which has been completely taken over by dancers in sweats and various states of garish stage makeup. </p><p>The restaurant was nearly empty until the dance teams started piling in, obnoxiously loud and still wired from the remnants of post-show adrenaline. Fucking Ashton is dancing around the soda fountain like a leprechaun, pushing buttons on different drinks to the beat of a Pitbull song playing on his phone. Calum feels very bad for the In-N-Out employees, but hey, maybe it’s free entertainment on a slow night. </p><p>“I think they do grill the cheese part though!” Calum argues, smiling up at Luke. He can’t stop smiling. It’s okay, though, because Luke’s smiling too, even while busting Calum’s balls over his vegetarian In-N-Out order. He’s also wearing Calum’s hoodie, which is cute and hot and wonderful. So no, Calum doesn’t mind being forced to defend his grilled cheese, as long as he gets to spend time with cozy hoodie Luke.</p><p>Calum looks around the tables and booths, trying to locate an empty spot for he and Luke to slide into. As it turns out, half a dozen college dance crews take up a lot of booth space.</p><p>“Yo Calum, over here!” Michael yells, pointing at an extremely tiny swath of empty booth space next to him. Calum looks over at Luke, back to the booth, back to Luke. There’s just no way. Unless. “Um. Wanna sit on my lap?” he offers. </p><p>Luke smiles, but he looks concerned. “I’ve wanted to hear you say that for almost two years, but now that you <em> are </em> saying it, I’m concerned about the logistics.”</p><p>“What do you mean, logistics?” Maybe Calum is distracted by the way some of Luke’s gold eye glitter has drifted onto his cheekbones, and how his eyeliner is the slightest bit smudged, making him look rather sinful, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t that complicated. “I sit down. You sit on my lap. Bada-bing bada-boom.”</p><p>“Okay, asshole, but then how do you plan on eating your food? And what if I crush you?” Luke’s spewing various concerns at Calum’s back as Calum heads fearlessly toward the tiny open booth space. They <em> will </em> make this work, because Calum is not going to miss the perfect opportunity to lure Luke onto his lap. </p><p>“You may be extremely large,” Calum says, placing his tray on the table and wiggling into the spot between Michael and the wall. “But I am a very strong manly man, as you are well aware. I can take it.” He gestures at his lap and hopes that he doesn’t look too much like a mall Santa. </p><p>“And you’re going to eat <em> how </em>?” Luke asks, reluctantly stepping closer and setting his tray down next to Calum’s. </p><p>“Just sit down, we’ll figure it out,” Calum says, grabby hands working full force. Luke bites his lip as he assesses the situation, and Calum looks at him longingly. He can literally feel the longing seeping out of his pores. Hopefully it doesn’t make him too shiny.</p><p>“Stop drooling, Cal,” Michael mutters in his ear. “He’s a human being, not a kouign-amann.” Shit. He’d kind of forgotten Michael was there, despite the fact that they’re smushed together from knee to shoulder.</p><p>“Shut the fuck up, Mike,” Calum hisses back, trying to keep an inviting smile plastered on his face in hopes that maybe Luke will just sit down on his fucking lap already, Jesus Christ.</p><p>Luke watches the exchange suspiciously, but Calum is fairly confident that between the loud chatter of the dance teams and Ashton’s Pitbull song, Luke couldn’t have caught anything incriminating. And really, does Calum even care that much if Luke knows he wants to take a bite out of him? Not so much.</p><p>“C’mon, Luke! Sit on my lap now!” Calum demands, making another attempt at grabby hands. He turns to Michael for reinforcements. “What was it you said earlier, Mike? Posthaste?” He wiggles his fingers at Luke again. “Come sit on my lap, posthaste!”</p><p>Raising his eyebrows, Luke finally complies, tentatively lowering himself onto Calum’s lap. Calum wraps his arms around Luke’s waist and tugs him closer, burying his face in between Luke’s shoulder blades. Ahhhh, this is the life. </p><p>“You okay, Cal?” Calum can feel the rumble of Luke’s voice on his cheek and he smiles to himself.</p><p>“Perfect,” he says. </p><p>Suddenly there’s a stab in Calum’s chest, and it’s weird and nice and terrifying, because he’s pretty sure he’s being stabbed with feelings. Because Luke’s on his lap, and he’s not thinking about the various dirty dreams he’s had, no, he’s thinking about how nice it is to snuggle up with Luke and have this small, mundane moment at In-N-Out burger together. This is <em> so </em> fucking problematic.</p><p>“How are you going to eat?” Luke twists in his lap, trying to look down at Calum.</p><p>“Don’t worry about me,” Calum says, blindly pawing at Luke’s tray until his fingers catch on some fries. He lifts one of them to Luke’s mouth and pokes it at his lips. “You need sustenance after your big performance. Eat the magic potatoes.” </p><p>Luke opens his mouth and lets Calum feed him a fry, but as he chews he grabs another fry off his tray and jams it in Calum’s mouth. “You need sustenance too. Those hip hop routines look exhausting.”</p><p>Calum smiles and lets Luke slide the fry past his lips, and the salt on his tongue is divine. He <em> is </em> ravenous. He’d just kind of forgotten about it, what with all the excitement of having Luke in his lap and realizing that maybe he could be falling in love with him.</p><p>“We can switch after you’re done eating,” Calum suggests. Never mind the fact that, by then, another seat will probably have opened up.</p><p>Luke quirks his lips in interest, then nods agreeably. “Deal.”</p><p>“Do I get a turn too?” Michael asks, voice syrupy sweet as he leans his head on Calum’s shoulder. God damn it. How does he keep forgetting Michael is <em> right there </em>?</p><p>“You can have a turn on my lap, Michael,” Luke offers, munching happily on his Double-Double. </p><p>“What the fuck?” Calum squeaks, reflexively digging his hands into Luke’s hips. Luke jerks in surprise, and Calum quickly moves to steady Luke’s wrists before he drops his Double-Double all over Calum’s favorite hoodie. </p><p>When he looks up at Luke, Luke has a bratty little smile on his face. Michael is cackling next to him, and Calum honestly has no clue what’s happening. All he knows is he does not want to share Luke’s lap with someone who doesn’t know how to use <em> posthaste </em> correctly. But he also doesn’t want to seem like a jealous, possessive asshole. He and Luke haven’t even had <em> the talk</em>. Sure, they kissed, and Luke’s wearing his hoodie, but is Luke his boyfriend? Is this <em> official </em>? Calum is struck with a probably ill-advised idea.</p><p>“Are you going to leave me for Michael?” he asks, playfully jiggling his knees to jostle Luke. </p><p>It pulls a joyful wheeze out of Luke, who quickly sets down his burger and twists to wrap his arms around Calum’s neck. “Not tonight,” he says, leaning his forehead against Calum’s. “You’re stuck with me.” Everyone else in the restaurant evaporates into thin air. It’s just the two of them.</p><p>“What about tomorrow?” Calum asks, a little breathless from having Luke’s mouth so close to his. It doesn’t matter that his breath smells a little like In-N-Out spread; it honestly just makes the whole thing seem even more appealing. Calum’s <em> really </em>fucking hungry. </p><p>Luke leans back and purses his lips thoughtfully, making the godforsaken dimple on his cheek pop. Calum pounces, quickly bending forward to place a light kiss right on top of the godforsaken dimple. Luke takes a sharp breath and Calum buries his head in Luke’s shoulder to hide his smirk. His wooing techniques have really come a long way since last night’s Slenderman fiasco.</p><p>“You’re stuck with me tomorrow, too,” Luke says quietly.</p><p>“The next day?” Calum prompts.</p><p>“Hmm,” Luke makes a show of considering. “Yes,” he finally says, gently placing his arms back around Calum’s shoulders. “And the day after that, and the day after that. All the days, is what I’m saying.”</p><p>“Wow,” Calum says, lifting his head off Luke’s shoulder so he can look at him properly. “That’s very brave of you.”</p><p>‘I know.” Luke shrugs a shoulder, and Calum has never seen him look so smug before in his life. It’s pretty hot, seeing his glittery, smudged-eyeliner boy acting so self-assured. </p><p>“Does that mean you’re boyfriends now?” Michael asks through a mouthful of animal style fries. Gross. </p><p>And shit, way to put a guy on the spot. Michael’s supposed to be his <em> friend</em>. “Well--” Calum hesitates, but Luke doesn’t.</p><p>“It better,” Luke insists. “I don’t want to give back this hoodie.”</p><p>“That’s perfect,” Calum says, grinning up at Luke, “Because I don’t want to give back this boy.” <br/><br/></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come find us on tumblr <a href="https://staticsounds.tumblr.com">@staticsounds</a> and <a href="https://cringeycake.tumblr.com">@cringeycake</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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